The Wicked Cry Alone
by TheMessrs
Summary: Nestled within the woods lies a long forgotten village that lives in old history. Its myths and tales still ring true to those who have not forgotten how to listen. Written for the 2012 rs games on LiveJournal. Rated for language, violence, OC deaths, and somewhat vague sexual encounters. This truly isn't as dark as it sounds.
1. Prologue

**Notes:** This story is essentially a pagan sort of AU: e.g. still magical, but not the sort we've come to expect from the HP verse. To see artwork that goes with this piece, please visit my AO3 account, listed in my profile.

**Prompt:** "Fear isn't so difficult to understand. After all, weren't we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It's just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual."  
~ Alfred Hitchcock

* * *

Sharp screams pierce the night sky, accompanied by the whip crack of thunder off in the near distance. They only get quieter and less lively over the next minute; an eternity for anyone who had to live through the last half hour frozen in fear.

The gurgling sounds behind the now half-hearted cries make his stomach roll and coil in on itself. He doesn't know what they're doing to them, only that he needs to keep hiding.

'_Please…_' a voice, weak and defeated, pleads.

Eyes that were once so filled with laughter and tinged the colour of honeybush tea are clouded over with fear; blown open until only black engulfs the warmth and laughter. He's too young to understand it now, but one day when he's old enough, he'll realise that this was the defining moment of his life. This one night in a long line of many would leave him orphaned and damaged seemingly beyond repair.

'_PLEASE!_' One final cry. And then nothing. Only the sound of his own hitched breath and the feel of his hammering heart just under the surface of his skin.

A half hour turns into an hour, two, half a day. It's only when nighttime melts into daylight that he lets himself crawl back up the passageway barely large enough for a child his age. He was always thinner than the other kids anyway.

Eerie silence clings to the stale air. Something heavy falls on the palate of his mouth and he can't stop the cough. Fear nearly paralyses him. A hand shoots up to cover the sound and he stops dead in his tracks, worried that maybe he'd been heard. That maybe they were coming for _him_now. Terrified glances to the left, right, swivelling back around and front again. Nothing. His hand slowly lowers and he inches forward, bare feet lifting only a few inches off of the floorboards.

More like wooden planks packed over dirt, but his mother never complained about the finer points. Not when they at least had a roof over their heads.

His mother. Wisps of tawny hair are visible now, just around the corner. In the rising sunlight, they look golden and glowing: ethereal, really. He knows about angels and faeries and spirit folk. His mum read all of those things to him since he could first remember her voice. Da would always tell him tales of sea monsters and creatures that dominated the sky, but Mum would describe the golden beauty of these beings, instilling in him a sense of awe and appreciation for her soft, almost reverent whisper as she told those stories.

Hope springs forth in his chest and he forgets himself. His feet pound the rest of the way, turning the corner, only to stop once again, hand gripping tightly onto the nearest surface.

'Mummy…?' he says gently, fearfully. The knots come back full force and he's staring with wide eyes. The air is making them dry, but he can't even blink.

Streaks of harsh red cascade over the side of her face, trailing down into her tattered clothing, once white and clean. The red has oxidised into an earthy brick colour, like old rust that clings to the kettle in the cupboard. One of his hands shakily reaches out to touch the hair that glowed bright just a moment ago. It feels brittle and limp against the tips of his fingers. He quickly pulls them back into his chest and breathes a little sharper, catches the bitter tang of blood heavy on the air, chokes a little at the sensation. His eyes are watering now, but the tears don't fall yet.

From the corner of his left eye, he can see what appears to be a disembodied foot. Another corner to round, breath held and feet steady.

More dirty red. His father, eyes staring up into nothing, face gruesome, disfigured, and hands held out, as if in prayer. Off-red all over the walls, painting a horrific picture and spelling out words he'd rather forget.

_Monster._

_Heathens._

_Devil spawn._

He knows these words, if only vaguely. He's not sure _who_they mean, but he knows who wrote them. He had heard the loud whispers behind his and his parents' backs. As long as he could remember, he knew that they would be surrounded by people cupping their mouths and leaning in to trade secrets with their neighbours. He didn't question it anymore, not after his mother assured him that they were ignorant people who didn't want to know any better. Just old wives spreading unfounded rumours.

He never asked what those rumours were. His parents were the pillars of truth and goodness in his eyes; he didn't need to know what anyone else thought about them. John and Lilith Lupin were his best friends.

_Were_.

He's much too young to understand the full depth of this situation. Eight is such a tender age. Impressionable, dependent, trusting.

Suddenly the quiet of the room is interrupted by shouting voices. Fear creeps into his chest again and takes hold, forcing his feet to move. An acrid smell fills his nostrils and he has to breathe shallowly as he slinks around the rooms, grabbing for his parents' hands and trying desperately to pull.

He doesn't know exactly what's wrong, but a voice at the back of his mind tells him that they aren't coming back. This thing he occasionally heard about,_death_, the voice tells him that it's taken hold of John and Lilith. That they're never coming back, not like he's used to. Mummy's voice won't tell him beautiful stories anymore. Da's weary but laughing face won't greet him at the door after another hard day at work.

Still he tries to drag their lifeless bodies along, as if his eight-year-old frame could ever carry the burden.

The smoke is becoming too thick to see through, and he's barely managed two feet with his mum or dad. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he roughly swipes at them, leaving behind a streak of ash high on his cheeks. The little boy in him longs to cry for his lost parents, but the steadying voice, so familiar yet too distant for him to place, guides him along, telling him to take anything he can and _run_. Quickly, into the copse of trees surrounding the cosy one-storey.

He doesn't question, he just acts, gathers whatever he can. One final, longing look is thrown over the still figures of his parents before he turns and scrambles out of the sitting room window.

The small bag on his back bounces with its meagre contents and his pockets are heavy with food that will barely last for a week. But he runs faster than he's ever run before. He blocks out the voices and the roaring of a fire consuming all of his childhood memories.

The only thing his tunnel vision focuses on is the path he's carving through the trees. Branches lash at his bare forearms, tearing at the linen of his clothing, but he doesn't stop, doesn't once look back.


	2. One

Cold shivers running down his spine was the first thing he noticed. The chill was bone-deep, leeching the warmth from his body and greedily storing it in the ground.

His groan of discontentment was lost in the stillness of the forest. Day three in the woods had left his body worn and hungry, the majority of his food having run out what seemed like ages ago. His hand — numb from the damp cold of the bushes that had served as his makeshift cot — felt along the limp fabric of his bag. Just a tin and what felt like biscuits, probably gone stale.

Shaky fingers reached inside for a biscuit as he dragged himself to a sitting position.

Since he'd found himself in the wood a few days back, eight-year-old Remus Lupin had calmly accepted the fact that he was irrevocably alone. It had been difficult coming to terms with that last day in the house he'd known since birth, but the forest had a way of teaching lessons in the harshest manner possible.

Already Remus had avoided a couple of predators by keeping all-day watch, wide eyes and ears alert for any sound or movement. His heartbeat had been one frantic rattle for the first two days, until eventually, his growing body needed to recharge. Finding a place to sleep was a struggle, but at least he was safe from _them_. Perhaps it was paranoia, but he was sure he'd heard men shouting and dogs barking along the edges of the wood after they'd burned down his house. Like clockwork, the flurry of sounds had returned the second day, so Remus ventured deeper into the forest to try and keep well-hidden. He'd been so successful that he found himself thoroughly lost.

As though he had anything left to go back to.

The biscuit was hard and barely edible in his mouth as he thought, but it was food. His worries returned with a vengeance as he forced the pulp of stale biscuit down his throat.

_What about when my food's gone? I finished the water yesterday… what'll I do?_

And then the panic set in, starting his heart pounding anew. His head whipped around as he shot up, frantically searching for any sign of movement in the meantime. Fingers convulsively gripped at the bag he'd dragged close to his body, an aching awareness of his depleting rations settling into his gut.

That tin and biscuits were all he had left. He didn't have any means of opening the tin and those biscuits would be just enough for lunch that day; but what about tomorrow, and the next day, and the next? Having grown up near a forest, he wasn't unfamiliar with having to rough it. Da used to take him into the wood to teach him how to hunt and it wasn't unusual for them to camp the night; had done so since he was six. But this was different, now he was _alone_and he needed to live by his wits. Besides the fact, he didn't think to bring a tool or weapon.

Cursing his lack of foresight, he slumped back to the ground dejectedly and crossed his legs. An unwitting tear of frustration slipped down his cheeks, brushed roughly away with still-cold fingers. That he hadn't succumbed to pneumonia or any number of illnesses by now was nothing short of a miracle. The damp should've been enough, yet somehow, he was still healthy.

_Not forever_, he thought darkly to himself as he picked at the clothing hanging off of him.

Unwashed and covered in dirt and who-knows-what, Remus looked like a waif swallowed up by the massive trees. Light brown hair that used to fall softly against his forehead now clung wetly to his skin. He was thin before, but soon enough he'd be nothing more than a skeleton. A poor, homeless, lost skeleton.

Resolved not to sit here and die of cold, Remus sat up, much calmer this time, and looked around. Picking a direction opposite of where he thought he'd come yesterday, he set out in search of water and maybe if he got lucky, some food.

* * *

Just as daylight was quickly extinguished by the thick treetops, Remus was settling his back against the frigid surface of a tall rock. He'd struck gold when he found this little pool, nestled in a thicket of trees and bushes that no longer looked familiar. He couldn't be sure, but it felt like he was moving from one forest to another; as though he might soon hit some unfamiliar land.

_Maybe I'll find a new home_, he thought half-heartedly, his mind absolutely refusing to let him think about the one he'd left behind. The forest may have forced him to accept his new situation, but his heart wasn't ready to find closure.

The journey to this spot was oddly noiseless. Usually, a big forest like this was filled with life. Birds singing, small animals scurrying around, even the trees themselves swaying or their falling leaves catching the wind and crunching under his feet. He kept his usual watch and hadn't seen or heard anything, but he hadn't let his guard down. Even when sudden elation filled him at the sight of water, his stomach clenched tightly in muted caution.

Now with night falling, he didn't know what to expect. The rock surrounding the area was thankfully thick and high, even bearing a few dents in its surface that provided some shelter for his small body. He was clean and his stomach full of the last of his biscuits, although the stench of dirty clothing still drifted up to his nose with each movement. At least he'd found some respite to his wandering.

Right before giving in to the strong urge to sleep, he faintly hoped that he could stay here for a few days.

* * *

_Poor lost thing_, a gentle voice said, faraway and echoing.

Remus felt his heart leap into his throat as his eyes caught sight of booted feet a mere hairsbreadth from his face. Terror settled in the pit of his stomach; the immediate urge to _run_suddenly overwhelming.

_'_I won't hurt you,' came that voice again, this time just above him.

Whomever it was took a step back, coming into full view. For a split second, Remus was tempted to feign sleep, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Not when the man had his searching gaze locked on his face.

Instead, he moved slowly, his own frightened brown eyes meeting the intense stare. It was already bright out. Mid-morning. His body was still exhausted, yet even with the heavy feeling in his arms, he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. Preparing for fight or flight. Judging by the huntsman attire, it would definitely be the latter.

'It's all right, I won't hurt you.' Firmer this time. The man held a hand out in a peaceful gesture, stilling Remus's slow shift.

'Wh-who are you?' he asked cautiously, feeling utterly foolish for talking to someone just as likely to kill him as talk with him. The memories of four days ago flooded the backs of his eyelids, but he wouldn't let himself shut his eyes.

'I'm Tom,' the man said, slowly indicating himself. As though pacifying a caged animal.

Trembling from head to toe, Remus could only stare at the man, the painful images still sharp.

'Please… please leave me alone. Mummy and Da… they… they're…' His voice broke before he could finish. The man's eyes crinkled slightly in confusion, before it seemed to dawn on him.

'There was a fire a few days ago in a small village a ways down. It was all the talk in my town. Was that…?' Remus nodded miserably, his gaze dropping to the ground.

'I see.' A hand came up to rub thoughtfully against his jaw. 'Well, whatever the cause, I don't get in the habit of burning down houses. If you need anything — food, a place to sleep — you're welcome with me. My wife and I… we never had children.' There was a note of sadness in his tone. Kindness.

Remus looked back up at the man and studied him for a few moments. He took in the huntsman attire, his pack filled with supplies, the boots on his feet. On second glance, everything seemed worn, well-used, humble, even. And he was so very hungry.

Finally Remus nodded his acceptance and loosened his grip on his legs. He wasn't convinced of the man's sincerity yet, but the strong desire to run was slowly ebbing away, gradually turning into curiosity. His hand hovered in the air before him, halfway reaching for the man. To his surprise, a larger hand surrounded his and pulled up, bringing Remus to his feet. The soft smile playing about Tom's lips brought a pang of loneliness to Remus, a hint of a memory: his father's face, just after a successful hunt. His mother, arms wide and forehead creased with the force of her welcoming smile.

'Mummy,' he whispered, his voice catching on the second syllable, 'she was.. she always smiled. And Da, he was a hunter…'

With all of the wonder of a small child, Remus leaned forward and his other hand found its way around the man's middle. His eyes squeezed shut as images of his mother's face flooded his mind. The hitch of his breathing gave way to a broken sob, and before he knew it, Tom's arms surrounded him and Remus was clinging to his back through his tears.

It wasn't much later that they found their way out of the forest. The cabin that greeted them warmly was the guiding light pulling him away from the darkness threatening to engulf him.

* * *

Sharp brown eyes watched its prey as the animal passed the bush, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Its ears lay relaxed, tail flitting from side to side as it grazed on the patches of moss and grass at the base of a tree, unaware of the danger that awaited.

In a flash, his trap was surrounding it. His sudden leap from around the tree herded the deer's body deeper into the trap before its chest was speared cleanly through. A pair of triumphant cries echoed through the wood that morning.

The deer had provided the hunting duo with plenty of excess meat that Remus dried over the open fire. Tom skinned it and prepared the best pieces for tanning.

The life of a hunter was mostly self-sustainable. Fulfilling. Remus enjoyed the simple pleasures of fending for himself with a little guidance. After meeting Tom in the wood five years ago, he'd poured his heart out to the man who had become like a second father. A lonely child orphaned and without a home, he cried and cried while Tom provided him with a sympathetic ear, and then welcomed him into his home.

His once childish body had lengthened and filled out over the years. At thirteen, he had shot up in height, standing probably in the vicinity of 5'6". He still couldn't reach Tom in height; a fact that he would occasionally, teasingly, bring up.

They were nearly always successful in their hunts, a product of the unspoken teamwork between them, cultivated and nurtured in those first few months of acquaintance. Remus quickly learned the ways of the forest with Tom's help. So many things his father had taught him were reinforced and built upon. Over time, he came to terms with his family's death. He built a new life in a place that saw little interaction with the other villagers, and, thankfully, none at all with the smaller village several dozen kilometres deep through the forest. His own private hell that he never wanted to revisit.

He still woke up sometimes to the faint memory of a dream, of his mother's face smiling down at him before he fell asleep. Although it was all but gone before her features could solidify. He was starting to forget how she looked, how she sounded, but he would never forget the warmth that her presence brought him.

Remus spent most of his days tracking prey or collecting nuts and berries along the banks of streams and rivers whenever he ventured a little farther from the cabin. It was built towards the outskirts of the village, forest lining its yard and providing ample room to hunt and prepare their catches. They only needed to go into town to stock up supplies, and usually Tom handled that. Remus had become weary of other villagers, even a little socially awkward, so Tom came home with a greyish, cheery-eyed pup one morning. Remus faintly remembered that he used to celebrate his day of birth around this time of year, musing that she must be several years' worth of birthday wishes.

She looked like a wolf, but the sweetness of her temperament quickly grew on Remus. He named her Fáelá after some of the stories his mother had told him. With the wolf-like Fáelá by his side, he gradually began to come out of his shell, even venturing to town on the rare occasion.

* * *

One day in early spring, Remus was heading into town with Fáelá trotting happily ahead. Tom was out on a hunt, leaving Remus responsible for restocking the cabin's supplies.

Minimal small talk with the shop owner and a pack full of supplies later, he turned onto the road leading back to the cabin. When he passed by a row of houses that opened up on a small clearing, his eyes settled on a boy he'd never seen before.

Slinking back towards the side of one of the houses, Remus shrunk down to watch the boy shout something at someone else. A smaller boy who looked a lot like him from this distance. His brother, maybe? They looked happy, roughhousing and grinning from ear to ear. Fáelá barked loudly and her tail wagged as she started to run towards them.

'Fáelá, no!' Remus hissed out, his heart pounding a steady beat in his ears. He was becoming more comfortable talking with others, but this boy caused a frisson of fear to shoot up and down his spine. She stopped running, but her barks had drawn the attention of both boys, who curiously came over.

The older boy's laughing eyes took in Remus's crouching position before he nudged the younger one in the side.

'I think he was hoping to creep up on us, the sneaky little git.' Remus felt his cheeks flush at the suggestion, ready to bolt up and defend himself.

The younger boy was busy stroking Fáelá's head for a moment, his expression composed and thoughtful. 'Or maybe he was hiding because of your loud shouting,' he retorted, giving the other boy a smug look.

A grin settled on the first boy's lips. 'Yeah, that's me, Sirius the Screecher.' His chest puffed out proudly, the self-satisfied look on his face faltering only when the younger boy covered his mouth to hold in a snort of laughter.

Remus watched the interaction between the two with unabashed interest. He hadn't had much opportunity to talk with anyone his age, much less joke around with them. Fáelá seemed to be enjoying the attention the younger boy was still giving her, so he thought it might be okay to stick around for a little longer. If only to satisfy his curiosity about their identities.

'You're… Sirius?' he questioned, his voice polite but interested.

The dark-haired boy turned to Remus with a wide smile. 'That's me! And this here is my ridiculous brother, Regulus.' A hand around Regulus's shoulder dragged the boy close, pulling him ungracefully against Sirius's side.

Remus couldn't help grinning a little at their antics. Fáelá barked her approval and circled the two brothers before returning to Remus's side. He idly ran his fingers over the soft fur of her ears and chewed on his lip in thought.

'So, you have a name, right? Or should I call you Sneaky Git?' Sirius's sharp grey eyes were unnerving.

'I-I do,' Remus stammered. He mentally cursed himself before building up his courage, physically standing a little taller. He felt a little better when he noticed that he was a bit taller than Sirius. Confidence slowly seeped into his voice. 'My name is Remus.'

For a minute, Sirius was silent, watching Remus thoughtfully. He felt like Sirius could see completely through him.

Just when Remus was about to say something else, Sirius's face lit up and he stuck out his hand.

'Nice to meet you. Reckon we'll see you around more, yeah?'

Remus hesitated only a moment before he took the other boy's hand. It was warm, slightly calloused, _comforting_. His uneasiness melted away when he heard the voice reassuring him, telling him to trust this boy. It hadn't guided him astray yet, so he let himself smile while giving the hand a brief shake.

Regulus offered his next, considerably more composed than his brother was; a shorter, perfunctory shake. But his lips quirked in a smile before he dropped Remus's hand and tugged on his brother's arm.

'Come on, Mum is waiting.'

Sirius rolled his eyes and gave an inelegant snort. He shook his brother's hand off and stood defiantly. 'You can tell Walburga to get stuffed, for all I care.'

The clear tension surrounding their mother made Remus raise his eyebrows in surprise, but he held his tongue. This was between them. Maybe an internal family feud. At least… _at least he has a family to feud with_, he thought darkly, just before realising the direction of his thoughts and feeling chagrined. He had Tom, who was a wonderful, caring person — like a father would be.

'Sirius, come on… please?' That got his brother's attention. Remus watched as Sirius visibly loosened up, ready to give in just like that. He wondered at their dynamic, mentally noting that he needed to find out more about them.

But that meant having to come into town more. The thought made him cringe. He still wasn't comfortable around people, not for long periods of time. These two, though, they seemed different. Maybe he would try, if it meant feeling less like a scared little boy and more like a normal person. If it would help to pull him away from his haunted demons.

If it meant being closer to Sirius, the voice added, making Remus flush. He finally noticed Sirius's hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

'Oi, you there? I've gotta go, but sneak around again tomorrow!' A flash of teeth and he was off, a few steps behind Regulus.

Fáelá's tail whipped against his leg in her excitement, breaking him further out of his thoughts. 'You like them, do you?' Remus asked, crouching next to her and pulling her into his chest.

'Yeah… I do, too.'

* * *

A few weeks later found Remus picking up supplies again. This time, he wasn't so reluctant. Not when he knew two boys who made him feel better about himself without even trying. They didn't know his story. They couldn't possibly hate him like the other villagers had — enough to kill. Faint memories started to resurface and Remus drew into himself, distracted and sullen.

Several steps behind him, Fáelá padded along, unusually silent. She always seemed to know when Remus was having a bad day. Whether it was her canine senses or something deeper, she had proved herself an invaluable friend and companion. It seemed like longer than six months, but she was still a growing pup and she kept him on his toes; or, like today, respected his boundaries.

'Oi there!' shouted a voice behind him. Remus whipped around, eyes darting around for the source. When they landed on a grinning face, he felt himself smile in return. Just like that, the bulk of the dark cloud hanging over him vanished.

Sirius joined him in the blink of an eye, his shoulder bumping into Remus's. He mock-frowned and addressed him with a gravelly tone. 'You never crept back around. Did we scare ickle Remus off?'

The complete disregard for personal space threw him off a little, but he took it in stride and gave Sirius a sideways glance.

'I don't-don't normally come out to town,' he said softly. His nose unconsciously scrunched up at his stammer. At least it wasn't fear that drove it this time. Sirius was intimidating in a different way, one which he still couldn't pin down.

'Oh, so your desperate need to see me again was the driving force!' Sirius had a bad habit of puffing his chest out when he was proud. Remus promised himself he'd deflate it one day. But not today.

Shaking his head mildly, he remembered to straighten his shoulders so he'd be taller. Just that little advantage did wonders for his confidence.

'No, I was hoping you would be Regulus.' The barest hint of a mocking smile and it was gone as soon as Sirius looked at him disbelievingly.

'You're having me on!' Sirius invaded Remus's personal space again by pushing a daring finger into his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

He stopped for a moment, collected himself so he wouldn't shake at the touch, and then looked Sirius in the eye, trying to match him in sheer gall. 'If that's what you want to think, I won't stop you. I have a lot to do today, so if I might —'

Remus made to walk around Sirius, but the boy fell right into step beside him, a smug look on his face. 'Then I'll just help you, won't I? Maybe then I can find out what you do and where you go. I've only gotten so much from the villagers.'

The blatant declaration nearly made Remus stop in his tracks, if he hadn't been quick on his feet and schooled his features. Anxiety singed along his nerves, threatening to spill over onto his face. He would never be able to explain. No one could possibly understand.

_But… why is he trying to find out about me?_

The rest of the walk was shrouded in silence. Sirius didn't once try to break it, only offered to help when Remus needed to pick up some heavy supplies he'd normally strap to Fáelá's flank.

Hard as he tried, he couldn't get the other boy's intentions out of his mind. Each possibility was turned over, more ridiculous than the last._ I don't think he knows_, he hoped. Despite the boy's propensity for cockiness and getting into his personal space, Remus quite liked his carefree attitude. It made him feel like he could take on the world, too.

Small talk was shared between them as they made their way off of the town's main road. At a crossroads, one leading towards the cabin, and another up into the more populated part of the village, Remus stopped.

'So Regulus said she — what, why are we stopping?' Sirius questioned. He shifted the supplies in his arms, story forgotten.

Remus shifted his weight and fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt, muttering practically into his chest, 'Thanks for the help.'

'Hang on; we're not there yet! C'mon, you can't carry all of this alone, skinny little git like you.' Sirius's grin threatened to drag a smile from Remus, but he relented.

The other boy couldn't see the cabin. It was his safe haven, away from the rest of the world. Fáelá circled his legs before butting into one, whining for his attention. His hand rested on her head, drawing strength from her.

'I'm sorry… you can't. It's my — I mean, no one's ever been there besides Tom and myself. I'm sorry.' It sounded lame to his own ears.

Sirius gave him a questioning look for a moment before shrugging. 'Suit yourself. Don't come crying to me when your arms're sore, though.' There was no malice to his tone, but Remus didn't miss the flash of hurt he saw on the boy's face. A second later, it was gone, shifting into a nonchalance that came so easily for Sirius. He envied the ability.

'I'm sure,' he replied, giving Sirius a faint smile to reassure. 'Thank you for helping me this far. See you around, then?' He dutifully ignored the hope that rose within him at the idea of seeing Sirius again. It was unavoidable, living in the same village, and all. _Unless you hide away like you have done for five years_, the voice reminded him. He pushed it away irritably.

Fáelá ran figure eights between them with a sudden burst of energy, making it difficult to pin her down. _Bloody dog, stop being difficult!_

She seemed to grin at him, her tongue lolling happily and her tail wagging madly, flitting between Sirius's legs just as Remus dropped his load and reached for her.

The dark-haired boy grinned triumphantly. 'Looks like she's got other ideas,' he quipped, an insufferable air of triumph in his tone. 'So, lead the way!'

Remus started to protest, but Fáelá ran off ahead, yipping and barking the whole way. He muttered under his breath and retrieved his supplies, grudgingly following. He looked over his shoulder with a mock-scowl.

'Come on then, before I change my mind.'

Sirius's barking laughter trailed them down to the cabin.


	3. Two

Several months flew by before Remus could stop and take stock of things. Tom liked Sirius's carefree attitude; he often suggested that Remus should spend more time with him and the brother he'd only heard stories about.

'Imagine what good it could do you, Remus. You need to talk with more people. Don't become a wrinkled old hermit like me. Go, be young, associate with boys your age.'

Good advice that it was, Remus still resisted. Not that he hated the idea or was trying to be difficult, but because he was still afraid to open himself up, even if Sirius didn't seem to hold any malice towards him. Regulus had proved to be like-minded, although considerably more controlled than Sirius. Sometimes he thought the younger boy was much older when he sensed some of the muted demons that haunted him. In that, they had something in common. Remus found himself talking with Regulus in hushed tones whenever Sirius was occupied with Fáelá.

He had finally allowed them both to visit him at the cabin more often after Tom's repeated advice. Eventually Remus admitted to himself that being around them was as easy as breathing. Without realising it, he'd come to rely on their friendship, and they in turn had revealed more of their lives to him.

Walburga Black, stern woman that she was, definitely warranted avoidance. She sounded too much like the old villagers from his prior life, before he found a home here. Some of their other relatives were prone to insipid gossip, but Remus had luckily evaded most of their attention by living so far on the outskirts with Tom. Sirius and Regulus seemed like the only decent Blacks to emerge from that entire family. Remus counted himself lucky to be their friend.

As months turned into a year, Remus had turned fourteen and was still seeing the Black brothers on a fairly regular basis. His stammering had all but disappeared around them, unless Sirius caught him off guard by invading his personal space. He still wasn't accustomed to how tactile the other boy was, but the more Sirius touched him, the more intense his reactions had been.

If he spent too much time analysing those reactions, his mind would wander into unknown territory that made him flush to the tips of his hair. There wasn't a common precedence for _that_sort of behaviour, but he heard stories. He often wondered why he didn't think about anyone as much as Sirius; eventually he managed to convince himself that he considered Sirius his best friend, outside of Regulus and Fáelá. So naturally, he would occupy his thoughts more. He conveniently disregarded how weak that explanation sounded, even to him.

The three boys started to go on hunting trips together every other week when Tom was away trading animal goods with neighbouring villages. They told stories around the fire over a freshly cooked kill, laughing and taking turns with the gorier bits. Whenever the small group came across a stream or river, Remus let himself relax and played splash wars with the other two, often emerging the winner. He felt completely liberated at night, sleeping under the moon and stars like he was born to be free.

The closer they all got, the more Walburga Black stuck her nose in their business. Eventually, Regulus fell under her tight control and he couldn't break free. On the other hand, Sirius made a point of always blowing her off and disrespecting her wishes.

Remus missed having Regulus with them on their hunting trips, but Sirius insisted that they still go.

'If she thinks she's got her hooks in me, she's got another thing coming,' he said firmly. 'Fuck her and her tight-arsed rules.'

As they grew closer, Sirius never noticed that he was leaving his brother behind.

Hardly a day passed without them being together. Sirius made him feel better about himself. His optimistic — if occasionally brusque — way of looking at the world was having a positive effect on Remus. He spent less time in the cabin and more of his days venturing into the forests and even to town.

Tom took over most of the hunting on his own, but he didn't have the heart to interfere. Remus was finally growing into himself. He had a bright future if he let himself take it.

Their gold was slowly depleting, so Tom went out more frequently, bringing in double the load to sell to other villages. He was gone more and for longer periods, leaving Remus alone in the cabin with Fáelá.

Sirius kept them both company whenever he could.

Before he knew it, Remus was already fifteen, with Sirius just a few months ahead. Birthdays didn't really matter to either of them, but Tom remembered to give Remus a small token of affection. He gave Sirius a hunting knife that rivalled even his own and Remus's, while Remus received a bundle of the latest stories Tom had acquired going from village to village. Both boys gave him equally warm hugs. Sirius felt like he belonged somewhere. His blood family hardly mattered to him anymore, not when he had Remus, and his small family. Regulus was turning traitor anyway. He would learn the hard way.

The hunting trips gradually shifted from twice monthly to every week, and they drew each trip out to two days at a time. Without even realising it, they were spending exclusive time with each other, wrapped up in their stories and the hunts. Just as Remus had felt freedom, Sirius thrived on this lifestyle. Being able to fend for himself, without anyone telling him what to do or how to think, was utterly amazing. Even though he returned to his mother's house a few times a week, he rarely saw Walburga or any other Black more than he had to.

Remus was his world now; he was just along for the ride.

During one of their trips, they each occupied themselves with their birthday gifts when Remus spoke up.

'Sirius, do you ever think that maybe we're… maybe we…' Remus faltered, his cheeks growing pink in the faint light of the dying sun.

His friend looked up from one of the rolls of parchment, his eyebrows raised in question. 'What? Maybe we what?'

He tried to gather his thoughts, but the direction they were heading in was new territory. He'd come down this path before only to shut it down before he could make sense of it. Now that he was fifteen, he realised what most of those stories meant when they described passion. Tom had started asking if he was developing any interest in things besides hunting and his friendship, to which Remus didn't have an immediate reply. He thought long and hard about what he might've meant when one evening, after awakening from a particularly vivid and _heated_dream, it dawned on him.

'It-it's hard to put into words. We spend a lot of time together, don't we?'

Laughter was his only reply, as if he hadn't just asked a Very Serious Question.

'That wasn't meant to be a joke, Sirius!' he huffed, cheeks going darker.

'Oh, wasn't it? I think it's an obvious answer,' Sirius retorted. He hadn't looked up from his parchment until just then. The laughter died in his throat when he noticed how uncomfortable Remus looked.

'Mate, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to — look how about you just come right out and say it? No boundaries, remember?' Back when their friendship was first starting out, Sirius had said those exact words, demanding that Remus and Regulus shake on it.

Remus nodded but dropped his gaze to the canvas mat beneath him. His finger picked idly at a frayed edge before he steadied his breathing and ploughed ahead.

'I've been having these… dreams. Since we spend a lot of time together, I didn't really think anything of it. Until… they… well, they took a strange turn.' His face felt like he was burning up. The sun was nearly down for the evening, so at least the night's cover would help to hide his embarrassment.

A crease appeared on Sirius's brow while he mulled over what he'd heard. Remus couldn't mean what he thought; it must've been his imagination. But the colour of his face was reminiscent of a tomato, so maybe he was on to something.

His hands smoothed out the parchment before he rolled it back up, buying a little time. He caught the tail end of Remus's uncomfortable squirm when he faced him after putting the roll away. 'So, what you're saying is: I'm the man of your dreams?' His grin flashed in the dying light.

Remus sighed in exasperation before his head fell back with a _thunk_. 'Gods, you are impossible.'

One of Sirius's hands caught Remus's, turning it so his palm faced up. The fingers of his other hand traced the lines and grooves, noting how the skin felt smoother than his own. Long fingers tapered out to a soft curve, perfect for writing or playing music, not hunting. They flexed involuntarily as Remus sat up, watching Sirius's fingers progress down his palm.

'Maybe I've had dreams like those, too,' he said so softly, Remus had to strain to hear.

Finally Remus found the courage to look Sirius in the eyes. He looked just as apprehensive, if only slightly more confident about himself. Remus reasoned that it was because he was a few months older. Whatever helped him come to terms with his dreams about Sirius. _Fantasies, more like_, he reminded himself. Images of a naked and wanton Sirius flickered behind his eyelids and he had to suck in his breath, dropping his gaze again out of embarrassment.

'Hey,' Sirius said, tilting Remus's chin up to face him, 'it's normal to have dreams like that. We're not little boys anymore, y'know? I mean, I always thought I'd be dreaming of tits, but I'm not really complaining if it's your naked arse instead.' His grin practically oozed self-confidence.

Whatever else Remus expected, it wasn't that. Unbeknownst to him, something akin to _want_flickered in his brown eyes for a moment.

In a much bolder move than he'd intended, Remus reached out and grabbed hold of Sirius's neck, tugging him down for a kiss that was all chapped lips, no finesse, and absolutely the best thing he'd ever done.

Sirius was caught mid-gasp, the rest of the sound muffled by Remus's mouth. His hands rested on Remus's shoulders to steady himself, but he didn't pull away from the awkward kiss. What it lacked in technique, it made up for in delicious tension. He hadn't realised until that moment how much he'd wanted to do this very thing.

Remus was the first to pull away with just a tilt of his head. Their nosed bumps and they both snickered.

'Probably not the best first kiss in the world but…' Before he could elaborate, Sirius had swooped down for another, much more refined kiss.

This one was wet and humid. Sirius caught his mouth slightly open so puffs of warm air passed between them, bringing a jolt to Remus's stomach. He let out a surprised gasp at the sensation, only to discover that he could taste Sirius on his tongue. He shut his eyes tightly when the dream images resurfaced, moaning involuntarily at the reactions they evoked.

Sirius responded in kind while his hands pushed into Remus's hair, burying at his nape as he dipped his tongue into the other boy's mouth. The kiss deepened in the waning light, their soft moans greeting the moon as it rose.

Their hips met and it was all over in the blink of an eye, before either of them knew what had happened. Twin looks of mortification crossed their faces, but they managed to fall asleep with sated smiles and arms wrapped around one another.

Gradually, they learned about one another's most intimate dreams, whispers in the night the only way they could talk about it at first. It wasn't too long before they weren't simply talking about their dreams, they were starting to explore the meaning behind them, trying to figure out if it they were just products of puberty or if there was something more. Their bodies complemented each other better than either of them had expected, but what they _least _expected was how attached they had become.

Tom had started to notice their closeness. He worried over their future together, if they continued down this path.

And still he said nothing, continuing to watch the gold run out while working extra hard to make up for it. He didn't tell Remus how dire their situation was becoming; that local village economies were undergoing shifts and dips. Their animal skins were only worth half the original price now, yet Tom shouldered the majority of the burden, hoping that by doing so, Remus would be able to have the carefree life he'd always been denied.

He may not have fully understood the reasoning behind this new closeness with Sirius, but he couldn't begrudge either of them a meaningful friendship that had grown deeper with the passing of time.

It was only when tragedy struck again that their blossoming relationship would be put to the test.


	4. Three

In retrospect, perhaps they shouldn't have gone out that morning. However, with their food stocks low and gold even lower, there wasn't much choice.

They simply needed to be careful and take precise aim. The rain wouldn't fall as thickly in the forest; Tom was a good hunter and Remus had learned a lot in eight years.

So when the gunshot went off and Tom's shocked cry hit his ears, he didn't think. He took off at a run, heedless of the approaching lightning.

'Oh Gods, oh gods,' he panted, barrelling through the trees, 'oh gods, he's okay, he's okay, he has to be.' Like a desperate prayer, swallowed up by the pelting droplets that were coming faster.

Wet strands clung thickly to his forehead and he could barely see, but he could _feel_. Somehow, Tom's presence — a cheery yellow in his head that he'd always associated with the man — was fading. _Fast_. Panic gripped Remus and he ran faster. The branches were merciless, tearing apart his pack and lashing out at his arms — history was repeating itself; he'd only forced himself to forget.

'Tom!' He dropped to his knees by the prone man's side, his hands scrambling over clothing and hunting gear in search of any sign of life. Deep red already coated the front of the man's clothing. Upon closer inspection, his eyes squinting to see through the now-heavy rainfall, he spotted the open wound in his chest. A cold trickle that had nothing to do with the rain started down the back of his neck.

His gaze darted up to Tom's face. It didn't look like he was breathing; his eyes were stuck in a shocked, open stare, lips parted in a silent scream. Frozen fingers traced the lines of his face before they settled at the side of his throat in a fruitless search for a pulse.

That was when the trembling started. He wouldn't remember exactly what happened next, but the anguished scream that ripped through the forest could be heard all the way in town.

* * *

For two days, Remus had cloistered himself up in the cabin, coming out only to feed Fáelá and relieve himself. He resolutely ignored the growling of his stomach, feeling that this was proper punishment for getting yet another person killed because of whatever he was. He never found out where the errant shot had come from, but it certainly wasn't a hunter's shot gone astray. This was _intentional_. Premeditated. He shivered whenever he dwelled on the incident.

Remus had spent half of that day lying by Tom's side, atoning — mourning in his own way — for the sins that he allegedly committed. Fáelá had whined her sadness like a mournful serenade to the night, shivering next to him as the cold wet air turned dark. They both went hungry that night as Remus dug a crude grave by hand. Tom was buried right where he died, surrounded by the forest he loved since he was a boy — not much younger than Remus was when he'd found him.

His grief was quiet; he hadn't uttered another word, not even to find comfort in Fáelá, or to offer her any in return. She instinctively respected his sorrow and shared in it, sitting by his side whenever he allowed it. Otherwise, she would lay just outside the cabin, head on her paws, light ochre eyes staring off into a world only she could see.

He didn't expect to see anyone until he needed to go into town to resume his life. Or what little was left of it. He would have to fend for himself now. At least Tom had taught him well.

Loneliness was something he grew used to over the years, even craved — he couldn't let himself remember the laughter and games with his friends. He used to think that loneliness would be his fate in life, but Sirius Black wouldn't let it swallow him up.

On the third day, he sought Remus out. Determination lined his face when Remus opened the door, already telling him to go away.

'What'll you do if I don't? Isolate yourself more? Bloody starve? This isn't necessary, Remus!' Sirius pushed the door open and shouldered his way in, dripping from the rainstorm.

At least the weather fit Remus's mood. He had become too weary to complain so he shut the door and leant against it, shutting his eyes to block out the sight of Sirius hovering in front of him.

'Not now, please. It's been a bad few days.' His voice had grown hoarse from the quiet sobs.

'Exactly why I'm here. Let's go, I'm getting you something to eat.' Sirius grabbed him by the hand and drew him away from the door. Remus didn't have it in him to argue when he was pulled out of the cabin and up the sodden road. His companion trotted slowly behind.

Sirius led them to his house, thinking that Walburga was out. He fixed up a quick sandwich for them each and made sure that Remus finished his. Tea washed it all down.

Afterwards, Remus looked considerably better despite the wet hair plastered to his neck. The pallor of his face was giving way to some colour and Sirius couldn't help touching his cheek. He watched the faint pink turn brighter and smiled.

'You look much better. I'm a great cook, aren't I.' As if it weren't a question. He puffed up his chest out of habit. Remus groaned and shook his head.

'Absolutely the best. Can we go back now?'

'I just got you here! How about we get you out on a stroll and then you can hole up again. Sound like a plan? Of course, if you'd been less of a prat, we might have gone out yesterday when it _wasn't_raining.' He raised an eyebrow, challenging Remus to question him.

When he brooked no argument, Sirius grabbed his hand again and made to stand.

Voices drifted in from another room in the house, steadily growing louder and more agitated. Remus looked around uncertainly and got up, heading for the door out of instinct. When Sirius could tell whom those voices belonged to, he couldn't have gotten out any faster.

Before she could round the corner, she was already yelling, 'Get out, get _out_, you monster!' Walburga's screech cut like a knife, starting a sickening churn in Remus's gut, _just like last time_.

The next thing Sirius saw was his back as Remus disappeared down the muddy path. Fáelá's growling grew just as distant as she trailed after him.

He vaguely remembered Bella's hateful slurs against Remus. How she'd heard about his _strangeness_from the neighbouring villages. She claimed that he was cursed, and she successfully spread her venom to the rest of the family; even to Regulus, who'd grown distant. He never spoke out against Remus, but Sirius knew that his dirty family would turn him sooner rather than later.

Anger at the injustice and deviousness of his family flared in his chest and he whirled on Walburga, his eyes glittering with barely restrained hatred.

'That's it, I'm **done**. Fuck this and fuck _you_!' His hands curled tightly at his sides. Before he could lash out, Regulus — who'd slunk out of the shadows like a snake — grabbed his arm, trying to pull Sirius back despite his older brother's greater strength.

Snarling, he pushed his brother's hand away and hauled off, leaving Regulus staring sadly after him.

His feet moulded to Remus's muddy tracks, nearly washed away from the pounding rain. He was determined to find out what had happened so many years ago. He wouldn't let Remus go through this alone, not anymore.

* * *

Remus sat stiffly on his bed. His hands wrung the sheet tightly, its coarseness grating on his skin; harsh, like the tension that was shredding his nerves.

'Remus, please. You know I won't hurt you.' The soft, genuine concern cinched it.

He took a steadying breath and shut his eyes. Long sandy lashes settled like a heavy weight against his cheeks, clumping with the tears he refused to acknowledge. Sirius lay his hands in front of Remus's, the tips of their fingers barely brushing. A silent display of support.

'I was eight. The villagers… they came after me, but my parents wouldn't let them hurt me. For the longest time, I didn't know why they hated me so much. Why th-they would spread rumours about us. And then I found out, the day before everything —'

The sentence ended abruptly with a broken off sob ripping through his throat. Long-withheld memories came flooding to the surface and his breathing stopped. Held. He wondered how long he could hold it before he passed out.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and his head was tucked against solid heat. Sirius's chin rested on his head, both of his hands rubbing slow, tender circles across his sides and back. 'It's all right, you don't have to. Just… just let me stay with you, okay?'

The puff of Sirius's breath against his ear grounded him and restarted his own breathing. He tried again.

'No, I have to. Or… I won't be able t-to come to terms.' Remus circled his arms around Sirius and he listened for the other boy's heartbeat, trying to sync his own to it by controlling his breathing.

Eventually, the steady _lub-dub_fell in tune with his and he relaxed against Sirius's chest. 'They thought I was a monster… or a-a witch. I don't know why, but my parents always told me to ignore them. They were just ignorant. They didn't understand.'

The only thing the villagers had seen was smoke rising from the one-storey, the smell of cooking animal flesh, the bones buried in the yard. Neither he nor his parents were ever sick. _Unholy!_ said the elder women, _practising wicked prayer! _said the old men. _Devils! Heathens! And that child, a monster!_The words burned in his mind as he spoke them, one by one, to Sirius. He recounted the things his parents did: little rituals that he thought were normal.

'They said it was to keep us safe and healthy,' he whispered, clutching Sirius's shirt like a small child. 'I know they weren't bad people. We always laughed. Mum told the best stories. Da was a good man, a hunter, like… T-Tom.'

Tears stained Sirius's shirt, but neither of them noticed. The loss of his adoptive father was a heavy blow. At least he still had Fáelá —

'— and me,' Sirius finished, answering Remus's last thought; he was unaware that he'd spoken aloud. 'Remus, you have _me_. Whatever happens, you have to know that.'

Remus slowly nodded his head before burrowing into Sirius's chest and letting his frustrations go.

They sat on the bed together for hours until Remus was worn out. His breathing slowed against Sirius's neck, lightly ruffling the hair at the nape.

Sirius held him close as he slept peacefully for the first time in days. He pulled he knitted blanket over them both before Remus tucked himself against his side, their legs tangling under the blanket and hands entwining over his chest as Sirius fell asleep.

* * *

Flames licked the edges of his consciousness, trapping him in the same nightmare he'd had as a child, right after running away from the burning bodies of his parents.

_Oh Gods_, he thought, his heart pounding harshly in his ears, eyes fluttering rapidly under his eyelids, _oh Gods, not again! No, please; not here!_

Smoke started to trickle under the door, black and acrid, worse than he'd ever smelt.

'Remus!' Someone was pounding desperately on the window frame, shouting an endless stream of pleas and commands. 'Get out of there! The whole bloody thing's burning! REMUS!'

Shaken from his nightmare, he scrambled out of his bed only to be confronted with the hot stench of burning wood and animal skins. He grabbed whatever clothing he could before turning to the window, where Sirius's terrified face hovered.

His hand touched the glass, right over Sirius's open mouth, still shouting for him to '_get the hell out!_'

'I have to find Fáelá!' he shouted back, turning without waiting for a response. She was usually just outside or around back. A sinking feeling started collecting in his stomach but he roughly pushed it aside, focusing on skirting around the heavy plumes of smoke that billowed through the cabin. Its ominous blackness completely blocked his vision and closed up his throat, wrenching deep, dry coughs from him. His hands raked over surfaces, feeling for both growing heat and supplies to grab in the blind tightrope walk to the door.

One of the few times luck was on his side, he felt the door handle and pulled sharply, calling out for his companion. As soon as the door swung open, fresh air cleared out much of the smoke and he looked around.

His heart stopped in his chest when his searching gaze landed on the cabin wall.

_Monster!_

_Burn in Hell!_

Painted in blood red, streaked with sickly grey ash and black coal dust. Wild brown eyes darted about, feet guiding him around the cabin. Just as he was turning the corner, his foot hit a solid mass. With both arms encumbered by salvaged supplies, he couldn't reach down to check what it was, but the twisting in his gut told him all he needed to know. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly, tasting dusty saltiness, heavy with the coppery tang lingering by the cabin wall.

A hand yanked him forward, causing him to overbalance and fall into someone's arms. They surrounded him and pulled him along; away from the flames licking at their heels, engulfing the cabin and swallowing Fáelá's body whole.


	5. Four

What felt like weeks were only a few days. His feet ached, his stomach growled, and his eyelids felt terribly heavy. He wanted to eat and sleep and clean up and everything else he hadn't done since leaving the burning cabin behind. If Sirius hadn't been out early preparing their meals for the day, they might've both died.

'No, Remus, open your eyes. We can't sleep. Remus, please, just open your eyes.'

Calloused fingertips stroked his cheekbones and jaw, coaxing him awake. When had his eyes closed?

'Sirius? Gods… I'm so tired, please. I can't.'

'Come on, we have to keep going. They'll find us, Remus. They'll find us and kill us! Please Remus, I can't let them catch you.' The desperation in his voice finally pulled his eyelids halfway open.

Sirius looked terrified. Not of the villagers, but of what might happen to Remus. Sirius was never afraid of them; not like Remus, who had lived in fear for so long.

His hands covered Sirius's over his face and he groaned in exhaustion, but his eyes stayed half-open. 'Where can we go? You know they'll find us eventually.'

_Like they found me. A few whispered words were enough, from one village to the next, until they found me._He figured it out on day one of their escape. That was how someone had managed to find out what happened when he was eight. Sirius mentioned that his oldest cousin, Bella, was visiting her fiancé in the next village. In Sirius's words, she was 'a loathsome bitch on good days and an insane banshee every other time'. Some of her fiancé's friends might have been responsible for Tom's death, too, but he couldn't be completely sure. She was certainly behind the cabin and Fáelá; she and Sirius's hateful mother.

Anger bubbled up in his chest and he was fully alert. The familiar old voice gave him a direction to follow. It was the only thing he could trust now.

'I've got it,' he murmured distractedly. Sirius's hands found his shoulders and drew his attention.

'Where?' he questioned, implicitly trusting Remus's instincts. Remus managed a faint smile before he stood, with the other boy's help, and nodded in a northerly direction.

'Up through there. I don't know how far, but if we keep going, we'll find it.' They didn't have much food left, though with more clarity than when he was a little boy, he'd thought to grab hunting supplies. They could make it.

His steps faltered and he leaned against Sirius as the other boy caught him. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, eyes drooping again. 'I'm so tired. Sirius, I don't think I can —'

A finger over his lips silenced the rest. Sirius hoisted him into his arms with sudden strength and headed north. A tingle of something familiar zinged down Remus's spine and was gone as soon as his eyes shut.

* * *

The first thing he felt was cool air brushing over his cheeks. Conversely, warmth radiated against his side, keeping him comfortable even on the hard surface.

Cracking open an eye, Remus got a face full of black, at first shocking him into full alertness. Before his body tensed up, he realised that Sirius's head lay atop his chest, his arms wrapped around his middle, pressing against him like a curled up puppy. He almost looked like Fáelá when she was younger.

A hand buried itself in the black hair as a smile blossomed on his lips. Sleep lingered for a while when he let himself relax again. The trees didn't look familiar, although somehow, he knew they were in the right place. Just a little more and they would find it. Whatever 'it' was.

'Mm, morning,' came Sirius's sleep-thick voice. His face buried deeper against Remus, fitting under his arm and causing shivers all over his body.

'Sirius, you're acting like a dog,' he commented, 'and good morning.' The smile only grew when Sirius turned his face to look up him.

'Well, dogs are supposed to be man's best friend, aren't they? So I'm Remus's best friend. That makes me the best bloody dog in the world.' Even with sleep clinging to his face, his grin was full of mirth. Remus couldn't help but laugh.

'That you are. Good boy,' Remus quipped, bringing his other hand up to pat Sirius on the head. The other boy snuffled into his armpit and Remus shrieked, squirming away.

They finally managed to sit up and take in their surroundings while chewing some blackened rabbit meat. 'If we go around there,' Remus pointed at the small bunch of trees that glowed brighter to him than the others, 'we'll find a path to… well, wherever it is.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He finished his impromptu breakfast and stood, offering Remus a hand up. 'All right, lead the way. But I swear, if you land us in a bat cave, I can't be held responsible for my actions. I bloody _hate_bats.'

His comment was met with a colourful hand gesture before Remus led the way through the trees.

Less than a half hour's walk led to a small grass clearing that opened up to a valley. A clear stream bisected the valley; on either side lay fruit trees of all sorts. He couldn't tell what they were from this distance, but his mouth hung open in surprise at the sight.

'Gods, do you see that?' he whispered in awe. Like it was all there waiting for them. Not far from the stream, a humble looking house stood in the midst of a wild growing orchard. Their own little paradise.

Sirius stood beside him, taking in the view with a sharp inhale. 'Yeah,' he breathed, turning to look at Remus with equal awe. His lips lifted in a smile and he reached out for Remus's hand, pulling him in close. 'D'you think it's there for us?' he asked in an echo of Remus's thoughts.

'Maybe,' Remus returned, leaning his shoulder into Sirius's while turning to look down the valley. 'We should check it out, though. Something led me here… I have to assume that it's safe, but we'll be cautious just in case, right?'

The other boy's nod was enough to get Remus going, leading the way down the grassy slope and through the numerous fruit trees.

Up close, the house looked ancient. Built from old stone and mortar, its base was sturdy and thick, tapering off into a softly curved roof. They crept around as inconspicuously as two boys casing out private property could.

'I wondered when you would finally make your way here.'

Sirius turned towards the doorway while unconsciously shielding Remus with his body. But that voice… now he knew where it had come from. He finally found who it belonged to.

'You…' Remus whispered. He placed a gentle hand on Sirius's shoulder. _It's okay_, communicated by that wordless movement, _he's safe_.

'Why yes, I am me, am I not?' The twinkling blue eyes were kind behind the silver frames. Familiar, even though Remus had only ever heard the voice.

Confusion was slowly giving way to curiosity. 'But why did you choose me?'

'Ah,' said the old man, stroking his beard thoughtfully, 'that is, indeed, quite a long tale. If you would join me for tea, I can explain.'

Sirius looked between the two, clearly lost. 'Can someone fill me in?'

Remus just took his hand and followed after the old man. The inside of the house looked even more ancient than its exterior. All manner of baubles and relics lined the walls, lending the atmosphere an appealing, well-lived-in look. Comforting, _safe_, like his parents' one-storey had been. That tingling sensation ran down his spine again and he turned to the old man, following him towards a table where he set down the tea.

'I know your woes, Remus Lupin. You have endured many losses, yet only with tragedies can we grow. Your parents, the kindly man who took you in, even your faithful companion shall not be lost. They live within you.' The man's words struck a nerve. Remus backed away, though still, he didn't feel afraid, only intrigued.

'…Who are you? How is it that you know me? How did you find out about… Fáelá?' He fought the urge to turn to Sirius when he felt him come up behind him, watching the two carefully.

'My name is Albus Dumbledore. I taught your parents for many years, before they branched off and started their new life.' Remus's brow crinkled at this new information. When he didn't say anything, Albus looked kindly on him and indicated that he and Sirius should take a seat. When they did, he passed the biscuit tin and a cup of tea each.

'I know this may be difficult to hear, but I hoped one day you would find me, as your parents did. Your friend,' he turned to Sirius, a kind smile lingering at the corner of his mouth, 'is also welcome. I can teach you both, if you wish to learn.'

He told them what John and Lilith Lupin had been condemned for: living a pagan lifestyle. For being practitioners of magic, for bending the norm and for being independent, reliant on the earth's gifts. He and Sirius didn't find this house by accident, but Remus wasn't sure how much he believed in fate. Until Sirius squeezed his hand and leaned closer, practically tucked into his side.

The more Albus told him about his parents, the more clarity he started to experience. Those feelings he'd been having, the familiarity, this old man's voice; all of it finally merged into one point. He finally knew what he was, and he found that he wasn't ashamed. His parents hadn't died in vain, if he could learn what they knew.

Albus steepled his fingers. Deep, wise blue eyes settled on first Remus, and then Sirius. Flicking between the two as they processed what he told them. They were almost home free; freedom from the persecution against Remus and the hateful family Sirius had grown up with. Someday, Regulus would find him as well, but for now, he would pass on what he knew to Remus and Sirius, putting his faith in them to carry on what they learned. With them, the magic wouldn't die.

'You see, I have watched you, and waited, for many years, my boy…'


End file.
